


When The Morning Comes

by anythingbutplatonic



Series: Olicity Hiatus Road Trip Collection [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutplatonic/pseuds/anythingbutplatonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After two months, it's time for a change of scenery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Morning Comes

On Monday, they hand back the keys to the beach hut and pack up the Porsche. After two months, it’s time for a change of scenery.

It’s also 5:30AM and, as soon as Felicity gets some coffee into her system - once she’s finished fighting with her sweater and actually got her arms into the sleeves  - she is going to  _kill_  Oliver. 

Well, perhaps that would be a bit of an overreaction.

But she’s definitely displeased at being woken at such an unsociable hour, and even more so when she hears the honk of the car outside for the second time, where Oliver is sitting in it, waiting for her.

“You know,” she grumbles, when she eventually does manage the coordination necessary to pull on the soft lavender sweater over her pyjamas and pads out to the front of the hut to where Oliver is waiting, the Porsche’s engine purring softly, “when you said we had an early start on Monday, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

It’s cold, and the morning sun is pale where it rises behind the hut, casting a yellowish glow over everything that makes the neat row of rented beachside apartments look jaundiced. This fact does little to help Felicity’s mood as she dumps her bag into the trunk of the car alongside Oliver’s and climbs into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut with a noise like a gunshot that she hopes will give Oliver the hint that she is  _not happy_  with him right now. 

Oliver chuckles at her display of obvious disgruntlement, then jerks his thumb in the direction of the backseat. “There’s a Thermos in there with your name on it.”

Felicity wastes no time in practically flinging herself through the gap between the front seats, pulling out a tall silver Thermos that warms her chilly hands as she gratefully unscrews the lid and inhales deeply.  _Ah, coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee. What would she do in life without coffee?_

“You’ve redeemed yourself,” Felicity mumbles sleepily, pulling her legs up underneath her and taking a sip of the hot, wonderfully caffeine-loaded beverage. “For now.”

Oliver grins, revs up the Porsche’s engine, starts to back out of the small space that had, up until about an hour ago, been theirs. Now they were moving on, finding somewhere new to spend a week, maybe two; somewhere different, somewhere neither of them had been before, and would be all the more exciting because of it. 

“Do I at least get to know where we’re going?” Felicity asks somewhat grumpily, taking another sip of coffee and feeling slightly more awake - or maybe that was the harsh glare of the sun where it reflected off her glasses as they turned out onto the road. 

“Nope,” came Oliver’s infuriatingly bright reply, popping his lips on the ‘p’ for emphasis. He gives her a mischievous sidelong glance. “It’s a surprise.”

They drive past the row of houses that had become as familiar to them as their own city, Starling City, over the past couple of months, and then they’re out of the shadow of the buildings and on the open road, the town on their left and the sea on their right, shimmering in the morning sun like blue crystal. There’s nobody else on the road except them, and the only sound is the soft purr of the engine. It’s quiet and peaceful, and Felicity can almost understand why Oliver wanted to leave so early. There’s a kind of magic about the scenery that surrounds them now, the beach bathed in pale sunlight, the roofs of the houses in the distance turning to sienna and copper and bronze. 

Almost.

“Seriously, Oliver, where are we going?” she asks again, too impatient for vague answers and conspiratorial smiles this early in the morning, as they make a right and follow the coast road, right by the sea, and Felicity can almost hear the rhythmic rush and slap of the waves above the Porsche’s engine, if she tries hard enough. 

Oliver laughs, shakes his head, as if he can’t quite believe that Felicity is real and that she’s his. It’s also the laugh of someone who didn’t really expect anything less from her, either, the sleepy grumblings and persistent questions almost anticipated, as if he knew exactly how it was going to play out. 

Still, he remains determined. “I’m not telling you.”

“ _Oliver_ ,” she whines. It’s a good thing he’s cute. 

“I’m not telling you, Felicity.”

She huffs, takes a large gulp of coffee. Her irritation didn’t seem to faze him at all; it was nice, she thought absently, to be able to get mad and know that he wouldn’t be upset by it, the way he might have been before. Instead, it’s part of the give-and-take of being a couple, her annoyance matched by his own stubbornness, and both knowing that at the end of the day they would still sleep in the same bed. 

“Can you at least give me a hint?”

Oliver sighs. “Felicity,” he says evenly, without taking his eyes off the road, “I am trying to be romantic and spontaneous. If I tell you, it spoils the effect of my  _being_  romantic and spontaneous. So will you let do this one thing for you, or are you going to ask me the same question over and over again until we actually get to where I’m taking you?”

Felicity considers this for a moment. “Buy me donuts for breakfast, and we have a deal.” 

“Done.”

The sun is rising higher, warming the interior of the car. Sipping her coffee, she watches Oliver’s face in profile as he drives, the long, empty stretch of road ahead beckoning them forward to whatever lies in store for them at their next destination, and then the next, and the next, and Felicity almost forgets that the last few years had ever happened at all. 


End file.
